


Temptation

by October_rust



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Fuck Or Die, M/M, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 14:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14498925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/October_rust/pseuds/October_rust
Summary: Jason and Dick have to save Bruce from a succubus' curse.





	Temptation

“You didn't expect that, did you?”

Jason can't say they did. This was supposed to be a pretty straightforward case, involving a sex trafficking ring and a weird sex cult. Nothing that Batman, Red Hood, and Nightwing couldn't handle. 

And yet they most certainly didn't expect the woman behind it all to be a literal sex demon. 

A freaking succubus that chose Gotham for her hunting grounds.

They stare at her, frozen with indecision. She preens under their attention, smiling and toying with the ruby pendant at her throat. “My, you bats are such a nosy bunch. Always snooping around. And you know what they say about curiosity?” She flicks her wrist, the gesture dainty and almost nonchalant, but it's enough to bring Batman to his knees. He doubles over, a pained, rasping breath escaping his lips.

She merely laughs. “Much better.”

Jason and Dick both lunge forward.

“Ah, ah, ah. Stay where you are,” she says, and her tone changes in an instant from playful to cold. Reluctantly, they obey: Jason lowers his guns, Dick relaxes his grip on his escrima sticks. “Good boys.”

“Don't worry.” Unhurried, she tucks a stray lock of red hair behind her ear and smooths her well-manicured hand down her elegant dress. The material stretches over the curves of her body. “I didn't hurt your daddy bats that much. Not yet, anyway.” 

Wary, they glare at her in silence. It's obvious that she's holding the cards, that she's the one who has them cornered. And she knows it too. Her smile only grows more sultry, white teeth digging into the lush bottom lip. “Don't look at me like that. I'm not some cruel monster. There's a way to save him.”

Save him?

What the hell did you do to him, Jason wants to shout. A cold unease starts knotting his stomach, even as he forces himself to stand still.

She tilts her head, taps one long fingernail against her chin. “It's all very simple, really. All you have to do is prove just how much you love your daddy.” Her grin becomes predatory; the alluring facade cracks a bit, allowing them to glimpse the insatiable hunger, the all-consuming void lurking underneath. “Give all your love to your daddy. Fill him to the brim until he's drowning in it.”

She licks her lips, lets the implications sink in. And her meaning is impossible to mistake; it's been spelled out in the slow roll of the syllables, in the breathy cadence of her voice, full of filthy promises, slithering over their skin like a teasing caress. 

Jason swallows, shares a shocked look with Dick. She wants them to … to … 

Bruce is the first to shake off the stupor. “No,” he grits out. What's visible of his face is deathly pale against the cowl; he trembles on his knees, one hand braced on the floor. Jason watches in horror as bright specks of blood stain the corners of his mouth. “Leave them out of this. Take me if you want. Let them go.”

She pouts. “But where's the fun in that?” Her fingers move again, graceful and light, and the air hums with power, the shadows dancing around her, growing thicker, until they weave together into a shimmering black portal. She turns to it, then hesitates and glances at them over her shoulder. “It's a pity I have to cut this short. I'd love to stay and watch, get to know you all better.” She winks and blows them a kiss. “Maybe next time, hmm?”

And with that she steps through the darkness. The portal pulses and vanishes, just as quickly as it has appeared.

All that lingers behind is the smell of her perfume. Jason inhales it, dumbfounded, still rooted to the spot. His thoughts are whirling around, chaotic and desperate, as he casts his gaze about the room. It's her sanctuary, draped in red, with a large four poster bed in the center, and mirrors everywhere. There's an array of sex toys and bottles of lube on the nightstand, and somehow the sight makes the reality of the situation hit home. 

Bruce is dying, she said as much. Dying, and the only way to save him is if he and Dick … 

If they … 

“Jason, help me.”

Dick's voice reels him back in, slicing through the rising panic. Right, he has to focus. Jason takes a deep breath and holsters his guns. Dick already has one arm wrapped around Bruce's waist, but Bruce is swaying, leaning too heavily on Dick. 

“Come on, old man,” Jason says, as he props Bruce up from the other side. Sweat is beading over Bruce's upper lip. He's burning up; the heat is rolling off of him in waves, warming the thick plates of the body armor beneath Jason's palms. 

Together, the three of them shuffle across the room to the edge of the bed.

“Let me,” Dick murmurs, his voice gentle, shifting his grip and moving to stand in front of Bruce. Carefully, he lifts his hands and presses at the hidden catches, then pushes to remove the cowl from Bruce's face. 

It's like the first step towards the inevitable. Bruce stares at Dick and Jason; without Batman's mask, his eyes are turbulent with conflicting emotions. Everything is laid bare – rage and anguish, pain and lust. 

“Can't,” he rasps. “I can't ask this of you. I have no right – “

Dick is quick to hush the rest of the words, fingertips light on Bruce's lips. “Shh. Don't. We will make this better. Right, Jason?”

Jason nods. “Yeah, we will.”

Because what else is there to do but put on a brave front? It's nothing, Jason tries to convince himself. Nothing. Just dealing with a crisis, the best way they can under the circumstances. 

Some of the tension drains away from the rigid slope of Bruce's shoulders. Ever so subtly, he arches up, eyes closing, lips parting on a sigh under the press of Dick's fingers. A tacit permission to proceed, to take another step.

So Jason unhooks Batman's cape, and the fabric slides down and pools on the floor in a heap of black. The suit is next; piece by piece, they tug it off with quick, efficient motions. 

“You too,” Bruce says. He's panting now, holding himself up with an effort, and yet there's steel to his words.

It's only fair, Jason thinks. They cannot refuse this order. 

Dick is the first to obey. Throat locked up, Jason watches, that icy apprehension from earlier welling up, pulsing in his gut, as Dick starts peeling off his costume. All the while, he's acutely aware of Bruce, the intimidating, solid weight of his body crowding so close to his. Hot, uneven breaths puff at Jason's ear, and Jason tightens his arm around Bruce's middle. His fingers tremble and clench on Bruce's hip, and even with his leather glove providing the barrier, the heat of the naked skin is scorching.

Hurry, Jason thinks, his gaze trained on Dick. Hurry the fuck up. 

Not that Dick is stalling, no. But the way he's drawing down that blue and black suit of his, all fluid and purposeful, lithe muscles rippling in a breathtaking, languid display is making Jason dizzy. He can't look away, can't … 

At last, Dick tosses his domino mask aside and it's Jason's turn to strip.

He quells the impulse to do this with his back to Bruce and Dick. It's nothing, he repeats to himself. Nothing. Even so, he fumbles with his belt buckle, his movements stiff and awkward when he shrugs off his jacket, then bends down to take off his boots. Bruce and Dick stare at him, and he flushes hot, his cheeks flooding with crimson.

So much for keeping a tight rein on his fraying nerves.

Still, he soldiers on, despite that jittery energy, discarding layer after layer until all his clothes and gear are lying at his feet. Nowhere to hide, no delaying what must be done. 

Naked, he firms his jaw, and glances up at Dick and Bruce.

“Bed,” he says, and, thankfully, his voice doesn't crack.

They both nod – Dick right away, Bruce with more reluctance, a pained expression stealing over his features. Jason does his best to ignore it and not flinch away from the feverish hunger and self-loathing darkening Bruce's gaze. 

The bed is as sturdy as it looks; it doesn't even groan, as the three of them settle on it, Bruce all but collapsing in the middle, with Dick close by, holding a steadying hand on Bruce's arm. Jason chooses to perch on the edge, waiting, giving them space.

“I trust you,” Bruce says through clenched teeth, his eyes pinning first Dick, then Jason. “Both of you.”

There's defeat in that blue glare, the awareness that they are about to cross that final, damning line, the pleading for forgiveness. It lasts a beat, before all that intensity hardens into an ironclad resolve, the determination lending even more fire to the already blazing storm. And then, like the martyr he is, ready to shoulder the blame, Bruce reaches up and cups Dick's nape.

One tug, and Dick surrenders easily, lowering his mouth to Bruce's. Still as a statue, pulse drumming in his temples, Jason watches their lips meet. It's hesitant and careful, no more than a shuddering, shared breath, almost chaste. Slowly, oh so slowly, Bruce brings his other hand to Dick's face and traces the sharp arch of the cheekbone. In the next instant, however, he's tangling his fingers in Dick's hair, a low, guttural rumble tearing from his throat, urging Dick to deepen the kiss, to give more.

Dick does, of course, returning it with as much hunger, pressing Bruce down against the sheets. His body moves with the rhythm of the kiss, shifting closer, and Jason's eyes follow the sinuous line of Dick's back, all the way down to the lean hips and the tight curve of his ass. Bruce, on the other hand, is so much broader than Dick, so much more powerfully built; his wide chest heaves, the hard ridges of his abdomen contracting in an instinctive, desperate reaction.

Need you. Want you.

It's plain to see, evident in every twist and push of Bruce's hips, in the way he's grabbing at Dick's shoulders, groping up and down, impatient and greedy. And Dick bears down on him, slots one leg between Bruce's thighs, rubs it against Bruce's hard, leaking cock. 

Bruce groans at that, but the sound is muffled by Dick's mouth. And yet it still resonates through Jason, the relief and helplessness in Bruce's voice making him inhale sharply, igniting an unwelcome heat in the pit of his stomach. He can't help but notice how seamlessly Dick and Bruce fit together, how their rough kisses and touches are still tinged with a deep, underlying affection and trust.

Something that he himself can never hope to truly have, to truly match. 

It's an ugly thought, the old resentment rearing up and whispering about not measuring up to Dick's golden perfection, always falling behind, always being the second choice. A needed and necessary tool, perhaps, but in the end never anything more than a cheap replacement.

Street trash, the voice jeers. What else did you expect?

What else indeed, selfish and pathetic fool that he is. He squashes the bitterness down, ashamed of himself. This is not the time and place for that. The only thing that matters right now is saving Bruce's life. And Jason will see this through, offer whatever help is required to break the curse. 

“Jason?”

He picks up a bottle of lube from the nightstand, tosses it to Dick. As soon as Dick catches the lube and moves to kneel between Bruce's legs, Jason averts his gaze – or at least tries to. With the mirrors lining every wall, there's no escape from the images, multiplied and reflected back at him in tantalizing detail.

Maybe if he closed his eyes …

But he's too weak for that, too enthralled.

Quickly, Dick uncaps the bottle, pours some into his palm and reaches down to work Bruce's body open. Long and elegant, his fingers start circling and teasing the rim, slow at first, then more insistent, driving harder, sinking inside. Bruce sucks in a sharp breath, but his hips snap up to meet the intrusion, grinding against the push and pull of Dick's glistening fingers. 

“Do it,” he growls at Dick.

A faint tremor runs through Dick, the rhythm of his hand falters a bit. But then he's leaning back on his haunches, his fist gliding over his cock, just as pretty and mouth-watering as the rest of him, slicking it up. Grip tight around his shaft, he bends down over Bruce, bracing himself on one arm. 

Do it, Jason echoes silently. Do it. You're the one he loves the most, you're the one – 

There's another convulsive shiver before Dick nudges his hips forward, steady and smooth. Inch by inch, his cock slips in, and Jason can't recall if he's ever witnessed anything so obscene and beautiful as the way in which Bruce is taking it, thighs spreading even wider for Dick, eyes half-lidded and locked on Dick's. 

Once he's seated to the hilt, Dick pauses for a moment, his back bowed. Something feral flits across his almost too handsome features; he bites his lip, teeth worrying at the tender skin, as he struggles for control. But he endures it, keeps that dark urge leashed. Careful and precise, he begins to roll his hips, building up a languid rhythm.

Not that it stays lazy for long. Bruce meets him thrust for thrust, his fingers digging bruises into Dick's ass, and Dick changes the angle, picks up the pace. They strain together, strong and graceful, both marked with old scars, both moving with a growing desperation, both lost in each other. 

Jason watches them, feeling nothing but an odd sort of numbness.

Soon, sweat is dripping down the valley of Dick's spine, and Bruce's skin is gleaming with perspiration too. That awful sickly pallor recedes; his muscles coil, regaining their strength, as Dick gives him more, fucking him hard and good. So hard and good that Bruce is baring his throat for Dick in a long, tempting arch, his pride and usual reserve completely forgotten. 

“Bruce,” Dick chokes out.

He's not going to last, too overwhelmed by having Bruce like that, spread out beneath him, neck offered in surrender. His hips stutter, then slam home one final time, and Dick is crying out, his whole body surging forth, shaking with the force of his release. Bruce follows right after, his cock jerking untouched and spilling thick ropes of come all over his belly.

Dick sags against him, heedless of the mess, and Bruce clutches at him, the two of them panting for breath, shivering with the aftershocks. And Jason tucks the picture away, sears it into his memory, even though he knows he shouldn't, that he has no right to this. 

Still, when Dick pulls away, and both Dick and Bruce look at him, eyes dark and expectant, Jason unfolds from his perch and crawls atop the bed to join them. The curse is already weakened, he reminds himself, he just needs to do his part and it will all be over in a matter of minutes.

Almost there. Just a few minutes more.

 

His calm resignation disappears, however, the moment he's kneeling between Bruce's legs. Adrenaline spikes up in a dizzying rush, because up close it's solid and real, the smell of sex heavy and potent, making his nostrils flare. Dick's come is slowly leaking out of Bruce in thin white rivulets, and the sight alone is enough to bring Jason's cock to full hardness.

Wrong, Jesus.

It's so wrong.

But his body betrays him all the same, heart racing with arousal and fear, hands clumsy when they settle on Bruce's thighs. Beyond that, he cannot move. Already bumbling his way around; in this regard, too, he's a disappointment, lacking Dick's skill and self-control.

Suddenly, strong arms embrace him from behind, anchoring him against a warm, muscular chest.

“Jay,” Dick whispers, lips brushing over Jason's thundering pulse. “It's okay. Let me help.”

And then deft fingers are sliding over the sharp jut of his hipbone, inching down, until they can close around the base of his cock. Jason jolts forward, too stunned to stop himself from bucking into that snug grip.

“Dick,” he croaks out. “What the hell are you – “

“Told you,” Dick says, nuzzling into Jason's neck. “I'm just helping.”

As if to underscore the point, he reaches around with his other hand and starts rubbing lube over Jason's cock. Up and down, slow and meticulous, and by the time Dick is done, Jason is biting his lip bloody to smother his gasps. 

“Dick,” he pleads.

To no avail; Dick doesn't let him go. And Bruce is watching them, Jason realizes, his eyes narrowed and hungry, trailing hotly over them both, adding to the exquisite torture that Dick is inflicting on Jason. So much want in that gaze, so much possessiveness. 

Before Jason can say anything, ask for an explanation or beg some more, Bruce's fingers overlap with Dick's, grasping at his cock, stroking and guiding him into the heat of Bruce's body. All his half-formed protests and doubts die in one instant, obliterated by a wave of scorching, mind-numbing pleasure.

He moans, hoarse and shocked, his hips rocking, seeking more. Around him, Bruce is hot and tight, despite Dick being there first just moments ago. But Jason can feel the wetness too, lube and Dick's come easing the way, making every thrust smooth and deep.

“Good,” Dick whispers, kissing the vulnerable underside of Jason's jaw. “Like that, Jay.”

His hands skim up, back to Jason's hips, correcting his rhythm. Jason trembles, lets out another startled noise, as Dick takes control, starts manipulating his movements with gentle and firm touches.

“Oh,” Jason pants. “Oh, fuck.”

Bruce chooses this moment to grab Jason by the wrist and haul him down, nearly upsetting Jason's balance. They collide abruptly, the change in position bringing them face to face, with Jason braced on his elbows on either side of Bruce's head.

The intimacy of it freezes Jason in place. His cock is throbbing inside Bruce, and he can see the naked need in Bruce's eyes. Beneath it, though, there are other emotions, softer and more subdued, and therefore far more terrifying, far more dangerous.

Blinded by instinct, panic mingling with lust, he tries to rear back. But Bruce is faster; his fingers curl around Jason's neck, press down.

“No,” he murmurs, a husky edge to his voice. “Don't.”

And he tilts his chin up, captures Jason's lips with his own. More devastating than a knife to the heart, the kiss burns through Jason, wrenches a half-moan, half-sob from his throat. He can do nothing but fall into it, stripped of all his defenses, swept away by Bruce's passion.

His hips punch up and withdraw, speeding up. Back and forth, relentless, and he's just suspended in it all, a piece of a well-oiled machinery, built from raw nerves and boiling blood. Sensations flare at every point of contact: Dick is a wall of heat at Jason's back, his cock hardening against Jason's ass, while Bruce is drawing him in, lifting up off the bed to fuck him right back, all that thick muscle and bone barreling into Jason with a frantic, unstoppable force. 

Trapped between Dick and Bruce, Jason doesn't stand a chance. 

One more spark, one more – 

Flames lick at the base of his spine, as Bruce clenches down on him and the slick, white-hot pressure engulfs his cock impossibly tighter. All at once, pleasure erupts, so intense that it blurs Jason's vision, undoing him, grinding him down to a quivering, incoherent wreck, held together only by Dick's and Bruce's arms. 

Floating in that wondrous, weightless haze, Jason collapses atop Bruce.

For a few precious moments, he's free to simply savor the strong beat of Bruce's heart under his ear, and lie there content and spent, amid the rumpled sheets. Dick shifts to the side and throws his arm over Jason's waist. 

It's perfect, and Jason sighs in bliss, his eyes closing. 

But all too soon the post-orgasmic fog begins to fade, and sanity reasserts itself. With a stark, chilling clarity, Jason knows there's no going back from what they've done. Yeah, it was necessary. Yeah, they managed to save Bruce from the curse – but no way can Jason pretend that it never happened, that it didn't affect him far too deeply.

Better end it now, not make the situation any more mortifying than it already is.

His feeble attempt to pull away is instantly thwarted, however. Dick's arm doesn't budge, and Bruce puts his hand on Jason's nape, the gesture oddly proprietary.

“She's still out there,” Jason protests. His voice is all scratchy, unsteady. “We've got to go after her.”

“We will,” Bruce tells him. His fingers push into Jason's hair, start petting in lazy, soothing circles. “In a moment.”

He should get up, he really should. But every scratch of Bruce's nails against his scalp dulls his shame and guilt, lulling him back into sated drowsiness. 

“Rest,” Dick says and presses a kiss between Jason's shoulder blades. 

It sends a ripple across Jason's sweaty back, the brush of Dick's lips both comforting and teasing. Defeated and outnumbered, Jason closes his eyes, lets himself enjoy that warmth for a few stolen second more.

After all, it's already too late.


End file.
